Kevin Harding - Twice As Nice Nymph

He wolfs the sandwich and gulps the rest of the drink. I strip off my gown and go over to him. I kneel down naked next to his chair. I watch him staring at my cunt and breasts. I reach for his zipper.

"Should I get out your prick?" I ask.

He sets down his glass and leans back in the chair. His eyes glaze. His cock presses out against his pants.

I pull down the zipper and take out his prick. It is even bigger than I'd thought. The head is swollen. Already it is sticky. I stroke it. "Mmm, you have a nice one… so big. Are your balls big like this too? Why don't we take off your pants and see?"

He jumps up, unbuckles his belt. He kicks his pants and shorts off onto the floor.

I am still kneeling. I feel his balls. "Mmm, yes… they're nice too."

He stands there proudly, drinking up my compliments, enjoying the touch of my soft hands.

"Shall I eat you… your prick?"

He gasps a little but doesn't say anything. He turns so that his cock is pressed against my cheek. It feels juicy.

I kiss the big head and watch it swell even more. I start to take it between my lips. I hesitate. "You won't cum in my mouth, will you?"

"No… No… I wouldn't… not that." He says it like a promise. He pushes his cock against my lips.

"All right then," I say. I open my lips and bite the head of his prick lightly. I suck his cock all the way into my mouth, slide my lips and teeth back and forth against its thickness. I lick the fat bulging tip.

He sighs and groans and grips my shoulders tight. When I feel the quick shudders beginning in his body, I pull my mouth away.

I get down on the carpet, lie on my back. "Fuck me now," I say. I spread my legs. He kneels over me. He has trouble steering his cock in but I help him and he pushes all the way inside me. He pulls halfway out and drives in again. With his second thrust he draws out too far and I lose him. I reach down to help him find me again. I get the tip of his prick back against my cunt lips. But as he touches my skin, he loses it. I feel his cum spurt out. Not inside me; all over my thighs and the hair around my pussy. He keeps curving and cuming. I have never known a man to spill out so much cream. But none of it does me any good. I haven't even been close to curving. I just lie there on the carpet as he keeps shooting scum on me. I don't even. feel drunk anymore. I just feel naked and soaking wet.

He begins to cover my breasts with kisses. But I don't want any more from him. I push him away. "No… not now."

He looks hurt. His face falls. He sits back on his haunches, looking puzzled. His cock softens.

I feel sorry for him. "Was it the first time for you?" I ask.

"Huh?"

"… the first time you screwed a woman?"

"No, I've been with lots of women… well, not like this exactly. Feeling around mostly. But I've been out with hundreds of them."

"I know. I'm sure you have." I reach out and pat his cock, then get up and pull on my gown. "Won't they be wondering about you being gone so long… the people downstairs?"

"No… not really. I don't care about that." He comes toward me, his prick starting to harden again.

"I think you should be going anyway. I wouldn't want anyone to think I had a man in my room."

"All right," he says. He backs away reluctantly. "I can stop again tomorrow though?"

"Yes."

He leaves. I am glad to be rid of him. It would probably have been better the second time, but I no longer have any interest in him. I go to the bathroom and wash his cum off my hands and thighs. I take a bath and put on a clean nightgown and get into bed. I try to sleep but can't. I get up and make another drink, but the whiskey tastes bitter and I pour it out in the sink. I go back to bed. I am afraid of dreaming. I don't want to think. I reach under the nightgown and stroke the folds of my pussy, concentrate on that. I try to drift off to sleep as I'm cuming…

In the morning I have a hangover and feel as if I haven't slept at all. I want to check out of the hotel before the bellhop stops again. As I look through my suitcase trying to find something clean to wear, I think of the scads of dresses and slips and stockings I must have at home, if Graham hasn't thrown them all out. It's been over two months since I've been there. I think of my jewelry and a few things I'd like to have and in minutes I've made up my mind to go back for them.

I call the house to make sure that Graham is at work and not there. The phone rings and rings. No answer. I have breakfast, then check out and call a cab. It takes about twenty minutes to get there. The big stone house looks cold but impressive. As usual, the shrubs have been carefully trimmed and have that smooth rounded look. I unlock the door and go inside.

I spend the next couple of hours gathering up the clothes and jewelry I want and wandering about the house: Graham hasn't touched my things except that the picture of the two of us together has been removed from the dresser. It is still early in the day and I decide to take a bath in the big blue bathtub. It will be hours before Graham comes home.

I find some of my bubble bath in the linen closet and sprinkle it thick into the tub. The water is soothing when I get in and I lie back and let the heat soak in. I look about the elaborate bathroom. I start thinking about how half of the house is mine, about how half of the furniture and everything else is mine. It suddenly seems silly to me to be thinking of getting some lousy job as a waitress or something when half of all this is mine. Bank accounts too. And our stocks. By the time I get out of the tub, I have settled on getting a divorce and asking for half of all of it.

I decide to wait for Graham, confront him about it when he gets home. I pat myself dry with a towel, put on a flaming pink velvet robe one I'd forgotten I owned and take a nap in the cool quiet of the bedroom. My bed is comfortable. I lie there for awhile, feeling very luxurious, thinking about the divorce and the money I will have and making up nasty little speeches to tell Graham.

At five I hear the car pull up in the driveway and stop. Graham is early. I am stretched out on the big living room sofa in my velvet robe, finishing my fourth martini. I am a bit tight, feel delightful, and am ready to take on Graham. I dangle a silver slipper on my toes.

Our greetings to each other are terse.

"Well, I've been expecting to see you," he says coldly. "Your money must be just about gone… right?"

"Right."

He goes to the liquor cabinet and gets out some bourbon. "I see you've just about taken care of the gin. So, did you come back to stay awhile or just to see if you could get some money?" He stares down at the drink he is pouring as he talks. Everything about his manner reminds me of all the reasons I left him.

"Money… just the money," I say.

"Not beating about the bush, huh?" He comes back across the room toward me, his face unpleasant.

"No, Graham. I'll make it very clear… direct. I want a divorce. And a settlement giving me half of everything. If you won't agree to it I'll file anyway and ask for alimony."

He laughs. "You? You're forgetting that it was you who deserted me. You have no grounds."

I don't answer him at first. I sit up and cross my legs. I drink the last swallow of my drink. I hold out my empty cocktail glass. "Make me another, will you?"

"All right… that's a small request." He takes my glass and goes back to the liquor cabinet to get some ice.

"Graham, I've seen a lawyer… a good one," I lie coolly. "The law favors a' woman. I have sufficient grounds. There were a lot of things that happened or didn't happen before I left you. And you make a marvelous salary. I want my share."

He isn't looking at me directly when I mention having seen a lawyer but I see his jaw fall. His face looks pasty, soft like putty for a moment. But he recovers quickly. "Well, you've really looked into things, haven't you?" he says.